Step Bride: A Bad Boy Mob Romance (Includes bonus novel Honored!)

by Hamel, B. B.

  “What up, girl?” Chelsea said.

  “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “I’m decent, exhausted though. Haven’t seen you in like, forever!”

  “I know, being an adult sucks.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “What are you doing tonight?”

  “Honestly? I’m having a few glasses of wine and going to bed by ten.”

  “How about some ice cream with me instead?”

  “Can I still have some wine later?”

  “You absolutely can.”

  “Great. I’ll meet you at your place. When?”

  “Half hour?”

  “See you soon.”

  “Bye.”

  We hung up. I looked down at Petey.

  “Liam is such an asshole, right, Petey?”

  He looked up at me and wagged his tail. I sighed, leaning back into my comfortable couch. I hadn’t been on a date in a while, and honestly I hadn’t really thought much about it. I knew there were all these different dating apps, which I guess would have been easy enough to use, but it felt weird. And I didn’t want to meet some random guy at a bar, since that could be so sleazy. Instead, I put it out of my mind and didn’t bother.

  I have no clue why I was so against meeting guys in a bar. It would make a lot more sense if I were open to meeting someone great anywhere, but I guess I loved to shoot myself in the foot.

  Then Liam came along. The situation seemed perfect. He wasn’t married, I wasn’t meeting him through an app or at a bar, and he was attractive. I mean, he was nice and funny and seemed interesting, and he was beyond sexy. I felt like a teenager again, imagining myself running my hands down his shirt and along his muscled chest. I wanted to bite his lower lip so badly.

  But he stood me up. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to give him another shot. Then again, you had to respect a man with his own business, especially at such a young age. He hustled, and I couldn’t hold that against him too much. It didn’t exactly upset me, but it was definitely strange.

  Shaking my head, I stood up and walked into my bedroom to get changed into something comfortable to wear.

  ––––––––

  Chelsea grinned at me as we walked down the sidewalk toward Philly Flavors on Fairmount Avenue. She was her usual, happy self, though I could see how tired she was around the edges. She was slightly less ready to laugh, and the bags under her eyes were thicker, but otherwise she was the same old Chelsea.

  “So he just canceled on you, out of the blue?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, through text. I mean, he does own his own restaurant, so there really could be some issue, but still. Call me at least.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, seriously. If you want, I can hook you up with one of the lawyers at my firm. There are some nice, hot young partners.”

  “No, thanks. I’m not really interested in dating around.”

  “Oh, and yet this mysterious Liam guy is good enough for Princess Eleanor?”

  I winced. “God, don’t call me that.”

  “It’s your name, isn’t it? Anyway, what makes this guy so special?”

  I sighed and looked away. I had no clue how to answer that. What did make him so special? He was hot, definitely, but it was way more than that. There was this indefinable part of him, some impossible-to-pin-down presence.

  “I honestly don’t know. He’s hot, he’s successful, and he takes care of his little brother. There’s just something about him.”

  She nodded and paused. “How hot?”

  I laughed. “That’s all you got from that?”

  “Yeah, but I mean, how hot are we talking here?”

  “I don’t know. One-night stand hot, I guess.”

  She whistled. “Coming from you, that’s a big deal.”

  I laughed, and she grinned at me as we approached the ice cream store. I ordered a small vanilla cone, and Chelsea ordered a cherry water ice and vanilla ice cream gelato. We walked half a block away from the store and sat down on an abandoned building’s front stoop, eating together.

  “How’s work been?” I asked.

  “You know, the usual bullshit. Lawyers are all assholes, except for the cute ones, and they make me stay way too late every night. What about you?”

  I shrugged. “It’s pretty good, actually. Aside from how gross kids are, I guess.”

  She made a face. Chelsea was not the kids type. If maternal instincts were a thing, Chelsea definitely never developed any.

  “I’d rather work too hard than work with kids.”

  “It can be really rewarding sometimes, you know.”

  “So can working at a law firm, except I get rewarded in cold hard cash.”

  We both laughed, and I ate my ice cream, looking across the street at a small park. I wondered what Liam was up to, and if his emergency had been taken care of yet. I hadn’t seen him after school, though I had stayed late in my classroom talking to some parents, but I wished I had caught him. Even though he was a huge asshole for ditching me, I still liked to be close to him.

  I finished up my cone in silence as Chelsea went on a tirade about some older partner that was constantly borderline sexual harassing her. I felt bad that she had to deal with that stuff, although I was constantly ignoring iffy comments from married dads all the time. We stood up and began walking back toward our neighborhood as the sun slowly began to dip below the horizon.

  I felt better after talking to Chelsea. Although we had grown apart lately, despite her moving into my neighborhood, she was still my best and closest friend. The sting of Liam standing me up didn’t seem that bad after spending some time with her. Plus, she was all about calling him a dickhead, which I couldn’t disagree with. She was a no bullshit kind of person, and I loved that about her.

  As we turned into the few blocks that made up our tiny little section of the city, a car caught my eye. A block back, a van was crawling along the street, tailing us. I could have sworn it was the same van I had been seeing all over the place lately, though all creeper vans looked exactly the same.

  “What’s the matter?” Chelsea said, looking concerned.

  I caught myself and realized I had been staring behind us.

  “Oh, it’s nothing.”

  She looked down the street. “Are you staring at that van?”

  “It just looks familiar is all.”

  “It just looks creepy, you mean,” she said, turning away from it.

  I laughed and mentally kicked myself. I probably looked like an absolute crazy person. As we turned the corner, I watched the van glide past my block, heading south. I let out a huge breath. I was definitely overreacting to it. Something about the way the car was driving so slowly behind us made me feel paranoid, although I had no real reason to worry about it. I hadn’t thought much about vans and crazy guys dumping weird packages into the river lately, and I shouldn’t let myself get caught back up in that.

  “Okay, this is where I say goodbye,” Chelsea said, standing at the intersection of our streets.

  “We need to hang out more, Chels.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry I’ve been so lame.”

  “It’s not your fault. We’ve both been lazy.”

  “I know. And we live so close together now, too.”

  “Okay, promise right here that we’ll hang out soon?”

  “Sounds good.”

  We hugged and I smiled at her.

  “See you later,” she said, turning and heading toward her apartment.

  “Later,” I called after her.

  I stood at the corner for half a second, and then I turned and walked toward my apartment. Although it was dark already, I decided I’d give Petey another walk. I didn’t really feel like staying alone all night in my tiny apartment. For some reason, that van had me on edge, and I knew I needed to get out and get myself together before facing the quiet boredom of living alone.

  As I walked down my block, the sound of tires turning onto my street startled me. I half turned and s
aw it: that same black van coming slowly toward me. My heart started to race and sweat climbed onto my body. I knew it was the same one. I was absolutely positive. I definitely wasn’t making it up: the van was following me. I stopped and bent over, pretending to tie my shoe, and watched as the van slowly crawled down my street, going right by me. I watched as it made a left at the next street, disappearing around the corner.

  My heart was pounding as I quickly walked to the end of the block, crossed the street, and jogged over to my stoop. I climbed up the stairs and turned around, my back to the door, and watched down the street. I didn’t have to wait long. About two minutes later, the black van turned the corner and started slowly driving down my street.

  I was freaking out. That van was definitely driving around my neighborhood, and I was beyond sure that I had seen it sitting around, parked near my apartment, at least a few times over the last few days. It appeared right around when I saw those guys dumping those weird packages in the river. Could they be the ones driving the van? I was suddenly terrified as I remembered the guy running after me.

  I ran upstairs, unlocked my front door as fast as I could, and slammed it shut behind me, banging the deadbolt shut. Petey looked up quizzically and barked twice. I shushed him as I ran into my kitchen and looked out the window. I nervously glanced up and down the street, waiting for it. Two minutes passed, three minutes passed, and nothing. I stood there for five minutes but didn’t see anything.

  Maybe it was a coincidence. All those black vans did look alike. Maybe it was just some guy who was lost. Or maybe it was just a neighbor I had never met. I really needed to get myself together.

  As I was about to give up, my hands releasing the windowsill and my mind already beginning to think about the rest of my night, I saw it.

  The van, the same fucking van, slowly drove down my street. It stopped a few houses away from my apartment and stayed there, idling in the middle of the one-way street. Nobody got in or out. It just sat there as I watched it for what felt like an hour.

  Finally, terror pulsing through my body in waves, I pulled out my phone and dialed 9-1-1.

  Chapter Ten: Ellie

  I sat at my kitchen table, looking at the Saturday morning light filtering in through the windows. I sipped my coffee and sighed, feelings of shame and anger still lingering from the night before.

  The cops came pretty fast. But by the time they arrived, the van had already pulled away, and it didn’t show up again. At first, the two officers were pretty kind to me; they came into my apartment, sat down at my table, and listened to me as I told them about this mysterious van following me around. They didn’t put too much stock in the guys dumping packages into the river—apparently that happened all the time—but they didn’t seem like they outright didn’t believe me.

  They had agreed to stick around the neighborhood for a little while and keep an eye out for any suspicious vans. So for the next half hour, they parked down at the corner and waited. I paced around my room, embarrassed and nervous.

  Of course the van never showed up again. After a half hour went by, the cops came back and told me that there was nothing they could do. They said I was probably seeing different vans, that I was just upset from the guys harassing me the other day, and that I should consider talking to a friend or something instead of calling the police. They left after that, and I buried my face in a pillow.

  I had never called the police before in my entire life. I had never needed to, for any reason. I wasn’t the kind of person to overreact about something or to make things up for attention. I knew what was happening to me.

  I wasn’t crazy. I definitely wasn’t crazy. I couldn’t be crazy, could I?

  I took another sip of coffee and sighed. I looked at Petey in the other room and wished he could verify my story. He had seen the van at least once or twice, and he was around when the guy chased me.

  Unfortunately, Petey was a dog, and his English wasn’t great.

  The cops were actually pretty nice about everything in the end. I understood that they felt like I was wasting their time, though they didn’t rub that in my face too much. Philly was full of real problems. But I genuinely had no interest in making up stories, let alone in making the police come out every time I was scared. In the end, it was completely pointless to have called them, and I regretted it. They made me feel like a bratty princess, even though they were more than professional, when I was far from that. I had gone through my own shit, dealt with my own demons, and I always would. I hated that I was suddenly the girl who was afraid of random vans.

  The coffee was cold on my next sip, and I sighed. As I stood up to refresh my cup, I heard my doorbell buzz.

  Petey let out a bark and I looked up, surprised. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I padded over barefoot to the intercom system and hit the button.

  “Yes?” I said.

  “Got a delivery here for you,” the guy said.

  “Uh, okay, come on up,” I said, buzzing him in.

  I wasn’t expecting anything, but it wasn’t impossible that I had a package. I was like everyone else: I loved buying stuff online and having it appear at my apartment. It was almost like magic.

  Not long after I let him up, there was a loud knock at my door. Petey started barking.

  “Hold on a second,” I called out.

  I walked over to Petey and took him by the collar. “Petey, come on,” I said. I pulled him over to my bedroom, opened the door, and moved him in.

  “Stay here,” I said, closing the door behind me. Satisfied the poor delivery guy wasn’t going to get mobbed by Petey, I walked back to the front door, released the bolt, and pulled it open.

  The guy standing there wasn’t a deliveryman. He was wearing a black ski mask, a black sweatshirt, loose jeans, and was easily over six feet tall.

  “Who are—” I said, but before I could say anything more, he pulled out a gun and shoved it in my face.

  “Get inside, bitch,” he said, voice gruff.

  My insides felt like ice as I backed into my apartment. My eyes were wide and I put my hands up. It almost seemed fake. I felt myself begin to tremble as he followed me in, shutting the door behind him.

  “On the couch,” he grunted.

  “Okay, please don’t hurt me,” I said in a quiet voice.

  I backed into the living room and sat down on the couch, my entire body shaking. I had never seen a real gun in front of me before, let alone had a man wearing a ski mask shove one in my face.

  For a brief moment, I wished that the cops could have been around. Not to save me, but to see what was happening as proof that I wasn’t insane.

  “If you fucking scream or move, I will kill you,” the man said, sitting down on the coffee table, facing me. He held the gun pointed at my chest.

  “Take whatever you want,” I managed to say. My voice was shaky, and I felt like I was about to cry. In my bedroom, Petey began whining, but thankfully he didn’t bark.

  “Is your dog back there?”

  “Yes, in my room.”

  “Can he get out?”

  “No.”

  The man was quiet for a second. He released a low sigh. I wanted to ask him his name, ask him what he wanted. I wanted to offer him some coffee from the kitchen. In that moment, I would have done anything to show him that I was a person, and not some random person he could murder. I wasn’t thinking straight, though, and just continued to stare at him.

  “Did you see two men dumping bodies into the river?”

  The question cut through me and I took a sharp breath. Those packages had been dead bodies? There was no way. They were more or less square, and they looked so heavy.

  Unless the bodies had been broken up.

  I nearly screamed, but my mouth could only move uselessly. I was unable to make a sound, frozen with sheer terror. The guy gestured with his gun, putting it in my face.

  “Did you see something or not, bitch?”

  “Yes,” I managed.

  “What did you
tell the cops?”

  I stared at him, confused, until it clicked. He was the guy in the van. Maybe he was the guy who had chased me, too. And they had no clue what I had said to the cops. He probably thought I told the cops about what I had seen, and he was going to punish me for it.

  “Nothing, I swear to god I told them nothing,” I said.

  “Why did you call them?”

  “The van.”

  The grunted. “What do you mean? Hurry the fuck up.”

  “I saw the van following me. I was scared. Please don’t kill me.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Nothing!”

  “What did they fucking say?”

  “They didn’t say anything. They thought I was lying.”

  I was practically crying, and my entire body cringed away from him. I could barely control my thoughts, let alone my body. Violent trembling overtook me, like my whole body was convulsing.

  The man stood up and paced to the other side of the coffee table. He held the gun out straight, pointing it directly at me.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to do this,” he said.

  “Please, please, I’m so sorry, I didn’t tell them anything.”

  They say your life flashes before your eyes. Nothing flashed for me. I was just frozen with fear, staring at the guy’s masked face. This can’t be real kept running through my mind.

  This can’t be real, this can’t be real, this can’t be real.

  Suddenly, the front door burst open with a loud bang. The man jerked up and looked over, but before he could do anything, something hit him in the shoulder, sending him spinning to the ground. I looked over, shocked, to see Liam standing there, a gun held in his two hands and smoke curling from the end of a long black barrel. He immediately rushed over to me.

  “Ellie, fuck, are you okay?”

  “What’s going on?” I said. My mind was reeling. I couldn’t think.

  “It’s okay, it’s fine, I’m getting you out of here.”

  Liam stood and looked down at the man, who was on the ground, groaning. He kicked the gun away from him and stomped down on his shoulder.